Eats, shoots, and leaves

After seeing the movie Capote, I had great fun repeating to Boyfriend Philip Seymour Hoffman’s delivery of the line, ‘I have a ninety-four percent memory recall.’* Since that time, we have conjured the phrase whenever the occasion has called for it. And even in the absence of a relevant situation, we sometimes say it because Hoffman as Capote is so darn fun to mimick.

Truman Capote came to mind today when I served a customer who shared a peculiar likeness to him. Or Hoffman as Capote, anyway. The customer was dumpy, thinning on top, and had the complexion of a boiled lobster. After the usual greetings, and the beginnings of some small talk, the customer’s inclination towards the pedantic began to reveal itself.

‘I’m going to see Happy Feet this afternoon,’ he announced.

‘Ah. I’ve heard great things about the film,’ I replied, scanning his purchase of four Savlon creams.

He stood, watching me conduct the transaction. ‘Yes, it is said to be rather good.’

‘It’s received many positive reviews from critics.’

‘Yep.’

I took in his aging looks. ‘Are you seeing the movie with anyone?’ I asked.

He baulked. ‘No, I said that I was seeing the film, suggesting that I would not have company.’

For a moment I was rendered dumb.

He continued, ‘I is a singular term, therefore my statement proclaimed me to be attending the screening alone.’

Dazedly, I thought of a response to his assertion. I had assumed that the man might be seeing the film with others, for instance his grandchildren. I thought it a little odd that this elderly gentleman would be seeing a children’s animated film by himself. When I told Boyfriend about the Capote customer later in the afternoon, he suggested that maybe he liked being surrounded by children, a la Michael Jackson. I dismissed the suggestion.

Somehow, I managed to reply, ‘Yes, but can’t the word “I” be used for example, as, “I am going to the movies with such and such?”‘

He pondered this for a moment. ‘Yes, I guess you’re right. But in this instance and generally, I refers to the singular self. And I am going to the movie by myself.’

The conversation soon shifted to other matters. I rang up his purchases and told him that the total came to $21.60. As he collected coins and notes from his wallet, he spoke of how his car was parked in the carpark over “there” – he pointed in a north-easterly direction – and how he still needed to go to Kmart which was in the opposite direction. He had gone to Kmart earlier, but they had sold out of all their Savlon creams and only had similar products in a liquid form (‘Such as dettol, etc.’) which is why he came to my supermarket.

I had no idea why he was telling me these things but I nodded in comprehension nevertheless and inserted appropriate comments at appropriate places.

The last words I spoke to him were, ‘Well, the Savlon creams were probably cheaper here [over Kmart] anyway!’

Already a metre from my checkout, he waved a pink hand in farewell and continued to shuffle away.
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*Well, the actual line is ‘ninety-four percent recall of all conversation’, but we bastardized it a bit for brevity.

‘Tis the season

Christmas. The one time of the year when people can splurge and receive and not feel guilty about it. Well, except for birthdays, but they don’t count because they’re only personal indulgences in consumerism rather than a mass one.

A customer I served today bought $30 worth of wrapping paper and assorted present-decorating accessories (see post Bizzare shopping purchases). She explained to me that she was going all out with the gift wrapping because her daughter (aged 8 ) had just come across the truth that Santa doesn’t exist. In re-wrapping all the presents elaborately, she hoped to convince her daughter that Santa had delivered new presents on Christmas Day.

Or something like that. It made sense when she said it.

I commited a minor screw-up during this particular customer’s transaction. I had just filled to the brim a plastic bag with various items and poured on top of it all her (many) decorative bows and ribbons when she exclaimed that I was supposed to be using her eco-friendly bags.

Rule #2 of working the checkout was broken. Never let conversation distract you from your task.

Rule #1 is to always smile, be friendly, and pretend that everything’s just peachy. During training and induction we were told never to complain to the customer about any ailments we might be suffering at that point in time – back ache, foot ache, other customers. Even if we are having a lousy day, even if we have just dropped a 1kg can of tinned fruit on our foot and we think we may have broken some toes, we nevertheless have to smile, smile smile. But I digress.

While I don’t celebrate Christmas and have been telling customers as such when they’ve asked what I plan to do for it, I have to admit that the season does have its purposes. For instance, I have no idea what I’m supposed to use as a conversation-starter once Christmas is over. In the immediate week following Christmas, I suppose I could drop the line, ‘And how was your Christmas?’ But I suspect that the question wouldn’t be well-received in March.

I have mentally plotted other major celebrations and events that occur throughout the year in Australia. The next one coming up is Australia Day. Beyond that, the only one I can think of is Easter. Keen observers will notice that there is a glaring gap between Australia Day and Christmas (give or take one week post-Australia Day over which the question ‘And how was your Australia Day?’ can be asked and one week pre-Easter across which the question ‘So what are your plans for Easter?’ can be posed) during which nothing of consequence is marked out on the calendar. This leaves me with little to choose from to use as a conversation starter.

I can only hope that some major unexpected public event occurs in that officially uneventful period. Otherwise, I may be forced to discuss the weather.
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‘Pretend you’re happy when you’re blue/It isn’t very hard to do’
– Nat King Cole, Pretend

Hodge Podge II

Today:

Another elderly gentleman complimented me on my smile.

Aside from that, most customers were grumpy and my day was a bore. I feel sorry for those sales persons who have the unlucky job of trying to convince people to subscribe with Foxtel or enter a draw to win a car (I saw a man tonight who seemed on the brink of screaming, ‘But it’s FREE entry!’).

Popular purchases today included spring onions/shallots, Royal Blue potatoes (at least I keyed them in as that), soft drinks, large hams/turkeys, and cellophane.

Bizzare shopping purchases

Note: Quantities are approximations.
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1. A $30 shopping transaction which included $10 worth of lamingtons in two different types of packaging, along with $20 worth of tinned ham.

2. 15 large packets of chips/crisps. 6 dips. 5 packs of 100 serviettes. 200 plastic cups. But only one packet of 20 party poppers.

3. Only reduced to clear items.

4. A hundred gazillion mini-cans of cat food, in flavours such as lamb, beef, chicken, and fish. Pet owner also bought sparse quantities of staple food items for human consumption.

5. A dozen 250g blocks of camembert cheese, reduced to clear, probably expiring in the next two days. No crackers.

6. 3.5kg worth of mince.

7. 25 tins of kidney beans, baked beans, and mixed beans.

8. 15 2L bottles of milk. (They ran a cafe in the shopping complex.)

9. $30 worth of bows, curling ribbon, other ribbons, and wrapping paper. Their presents are sure to look pretty, but lord – what a waste.

10. 12 tins of diced tomatoes.

Close encounters of the foreign kind

‘So where are you from?’ I asked casually, reaching for the first of his packages.

I always take advantage of opportunities to strike up a conversation. Some people throw signs that indicate they’re in a foul mood or are disinterested in small talk, and for them I keep pleasantries to a minimum. For others, I try to find a stimulating enough topic that will distract them from the lengthy business of processing their groceries. This customer looked like one who I could coax genuine conversation from, given the right kind of prompting.

He stirred from his stupor. ‘What makes you ask?’ he said with a slight grin.

‘Well, I don’t know. You look a little Scandanavian or something and you have an accent.’

The blonde, twenty-something man was now definitely grinning. ‘Ah, I’m from Holland.’

‘Holland. Okay.’

‘Do you know where that is?’

I paused for a moment before replying. ‘It’s not that I don’t know of Holland, but I’m not sure where it is specifically. My knowledge of geography is really poor.’

He leaned forward, resting his arms on top of the display screen above the register keyboard.

‘Well,’ he began, ‘It’s east of Germany. And south of Scandanavia…’*

I continued scanning items and placing them into plastic bags, glancing up at him every so often.

‘And it’s north of England.’

‘Okay…’ I said distractedly, trying to categorize his purchases while focusing on what he was saying.

He stopped me while I was putting his meat into a separate bag.

‘Oh, you can put those together with the others,’ he gestured to the other bag on the platform beside me which was half-full with stationary and durable items.

‘You’re not worried about it leaking or anything?’

‘Nah,’ he responded.

So I complied, adding the pouch of mince to his other purchases.

I thought of another question and continued the conversation.

‘What brought you to Perth?’

‘Oh, I don’t know… I was just looking for a place to settle down,’ he answered, still leaning towards me. ‘Holland was getting too small.’

I smiled wryly. ‘Let me get this straight. You thought Holland was too small… so you moved to Perth?’

A chuckle. ‘Yeah.’

The transaction continued. Further exchanges revealed that the Hollander had been backpacking around Australia and had been in Perth for fifteen months. I told him about my neighbours who had met each other backpacking in Australia and how they had settled in Perth as well. He seemed interested by this piece of information.

‘Where were they from?’ he questioned.

‘One of them is Korean and the other is from Belguim,’ I replied.

Before I knew it, I had scanned through and bagged the last of his purchases. I read off the amount his purchases came to and he straightened up, pulling out his wallet. He handed me his credit card and I went through the motions of processing the payment.

Without a word, we waited as the receipt was churned out. Finally, I gave it to him, and in the next moment, he was collecting his bags.

‘Have a nice day,’ he smiled.

Hey, that’s my line, I thought absently. ‘You too,’ I told him, smiling back. ‘It was nice meeting you.’

And then he was gone.

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*For those from Holland or whose grasp of geography is better than mine will have recognized immediately that I took some liberties with the geographical description of Holland.

Firsts

On my first day, I discovered that I was the only staff member who wore a skirt and heeled shoes to work. I later also discovered that I was the only one to be missing my name badge. But that was due to negligence, not fashion.

On my first day, I was placed on checkout 7 and worked back to back with a girl who I later found out was leaving in two hours. After that two hours, I would be working alone and would have to call out over two streams of customers to the next closest operator to me for assistance.

This was an extreme inconvenience because, on my first day, I was in dire need of help.

It had been four days since I had last used the cash register, and six days since I had first touched the machine. My first customer transaction on my first day without a trainer looking over my shoulder went splendidly. Well, at least the item-scanning part of it did. When the customer pulled out a fifty to pay for their purchases, I hit a brick wall.

I punched various buttons on the register only to receive angry beeps in response. With the beeping of the register ringing in my ears, and a line of customers waiting, I tapped the girl operator behind me who came to my aid.

The average customer probably wouldn’t be aware of this, but performing checkout duty requires a firm grasp of the sorts of produce items that are available in the fruit and veg area. Service cashiers are required to undergo an informal test every week, in which they have to identify a random selection of produce.

On my first day, I was made very aware of why this knowledge is necessary. Every third customer I served – or whoever was purchasing a type of onion, tomato, potato, grape, nectarine, plum, or cucumber-shaped object – was interrogated about what type of fruit, vegetable, mineral it was that they had chosen. I needed this knowledge so I could input the correct commands into the register and charge the customer at the appropriate price. Apples and glad-wrapped goods were alright; apples have small identifying stickers and most glad-wrapped items come with a barcode that can simply be scanned. As for almost every other item that needed to be weighed, had a corresponding code that is keyed in manually, I was completely lost.

I think my mind was partially elsewhere. Some part of my brain still thought I was on holiday, idly browsing the Sydney Morning Herald Online or playing with my cockatiels. It wasn’t yet prepared to distinguish Ruby Lou potatoes from Royal Blue ones.

By the end of the day, I had annoyed 15% of my customers, one of whom told me briskly that she was in a hurry and needed to be at the airport, three of whom (including airport lady) had left items at my checkout because I couldn’t find the right code for them or because the item wouldn’t scan properly and they didn’t want to waste more time while I sent for help, and numerous more who I inconvenienced with my ineptitude.

By the time I turned the light off for my checkout, I was dead set on quitting. I clocked off, hobbled to my car with my feet tingling like they had fallen asleep and were just re-awakening, and when I arrived home I sat sprawled in my car for another ten minutes. I was exhausted, but determined to go online as soon as I was inside to look for another job.

Unfortunately, my internet was down. (No, really.) It looked like I was stuck working checkout.

For a little while longer, anyway.